


The Love Of Gods

by CalamityCain



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Love/Hate, M/M, Tragic Romance, mutually abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityCain/pseuds/CalamityCain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>'Our love is war and madness, when it is not silence and want.'</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Love Of Gods

~

 

We would tear the world apart with our longing.

 

_Don't you turn from me,_ I say as I pull you back to my side with a viciousness that only ever rears it head in your presence. You are all teeth and hostile skin. Your spit stings my face; you hit me with every breath. I knee you into the ground. It hurts to hurt you, but you’ve always been my prisoner for as long as you’ve been my one love. As I have been yours.

 

Why can I not have you without destroying you?

 

The cold cuts grooves into your skin and turns you blue. You would break me with the strength of your frostbite, but I’ve been frost-bitten before. I have been wrecked by your lies as much as you have been wrecked by the force of my arms. Force I have perfect control of, except when I’m with you.

 

We will fight as long as we can fight.

 

I could choke the breath from your windpipe, just long enough to tame you into submission; but it is like taming the wind. In the next moment, you will slip again from my grasp. In the next minute, you’re dancing across a broken bridge and mocking me with half-truths that carry across the empty air.

 

Air. All that our desire was ever made of.

 

There is a kind of love that is sweetest when stretched by distance. When you’ve been gone too long, the air seems sunless and lacking; but it is exquisite also, stoked by longing, by lust, by want. You return to me in the night, slender and proud and fitting as perfectly as ever against me. I see the same burning in your eyes. We fill the gap. We kiss.

 

All too soon, the sweetness dries out.

 

Then there is silence. And resentment. And wasted words and the poison of your claws in my back. We fall back into a pattern that will repeat itself till Ragnarok. Once more, we fall. Once more, we fight. Once again my fingers pull the breath from you till all warmth flees your skin and you turn blue beneath my grip. Once again you cut me with invisible knives and sharpened spells and lies that poison more deeply than serpent-venom.

 

Have you ever loved someone so much that it drives you mad to be with them?

 

Our love is war and madness, when it is not silence and want. _If you love me, leave me,_ you hiss. With a snap of your fingers, every trace of your existence is swept from our chambers. You are ever the one to walk away. But you will not leave this time. I won’t let you.

 

I’ll tie your limbs to mine and set this house on fire. I will watch your ice melt and hold you close to me, and we will burn together.

 

Except I won’t.

 

Our love is too great for that. It is the love of battle-gods and giants. The love that can burn for millennia while destroying and creating ad infinitum. It is terrible, and beautiful, and it belongs to no one.

 

Not even to us.

 

I cannot go where your winter resides. Your enchanted fire cannot warm my hands without burning them. We were born to be apart. And only in the most fleeting of moments do we meet, perfectly, in the middle. They call me the golden son. But I find no greater radiance in my own visage than when it is reflected in your keen eyes.

 

You, the sly shadow-child, whose face holds the subtle brilliance of the moon.

 

The tenderness that creeps through your fingers into my bones is the very breath of devotion. Your lips leave silver words on my shoulders as I drift off to sleep. Unspoken promises; unseen love. Perfect moments that dissipate in the waking world. 

 

_Come home,_ I ask you, knowing you never will. For how can you ask the wind and frost to reside in the shadow of the sun?

 

Lightning and lies and love. The sky splits asunder.

 

Our war rages on.

 

~


End file.
